| When Silence Heals No One Soroka Hospital in Be'er Sheva, Israel, is unlike any other. It is a rare and extraordinary place where politics and conflict are left at the door. Israeli and Palestinian patients are treated side by side—with equal compassion, dignity, and care. This is a hospital committed to life, not sides. I visited Soroka just 14 days after the horrors of October 7th. I walked its corridors, offering comfort to hundreds of patients—men, women, and children—who had survived the brutal massacre and the relentless rocket attacks that followed. I witnessed the trauma and the heroism, the heartbreak and the healing. I saw doctors and nurses—Jewish, Arab, and Bedouin—working together around the clock to mend shattered bodies and spirits. Soroka stood as a beacon of humanity in a time of darkness. Early Thursday morning, that beacon was attacked. Soroka Hospital was bombed by Iran. Dozens were injured. Critical infrastructure was destroyed. Life-saving services were disabled. And the world? It responded with an eerie, shameful silence. Where are the moral voices that usually rush to condemn? Where are the self-appointed defenders of human rights who shouted from the rooftops when Israel struck Hamas terror bases hidden beneath hospitals? When evidence revealed tunnels and weapons beneath those buildings, their outrage was swift and global. But now? When a hospital with no tunnels, no weapons—only beds, patients, and hope—is deliberately targeted by a terrorist regime, the silence is deafening. Where are the great senators, congressmen, and leaders of the free world who claim to champion justice and compassion? Where is Senator Bernie Sanders—always quick to denounce Israel, yet nowhere to be found when Iran bombs a hospital of peace? This silence is not just disappointing—it is dangerous. Because when a hospital devoted solely to healing is bombed, and the world's moral voices look away, it emboldens those who target the innocent. It sends a message that terror against Israel is excusable—or worse, invisible. If morality is to mean anything, it must be consistent. It must speak up for life, for peace, and for truth—even when it's politically inconvenient. Soroka Hospital deserves the world's outrage—and its support.
The victims deserve comfort—not silence.
And justice demands a voice. On behalf of our entire Cheder Lubavitch community—students, parents, teachers, and staff—we send our heartfelt solidarity. Please donate generously to help restore what was lost. On the donation page please enter in honor of Soroka Hospital. Every dollar raised will be sent to the American Friends of Soroka Hospital to aid in their life-saving mission. | Shabbat Shalom, | | Rabbi Yitzchok Wolf | | | | | 
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